by S. M. Soto
“Didn’t expect to see you here.”
I whirl around and shriek in surprise at the sound of the gruff, deep voice. There stands Baz in all his handsome glory. I take in the severe expression on his face and swallow thickly. I didn’t expect a welcome greeting, especially after the way we left things, but it doesn’t make this any less painful.
“Didn’t think you’d still be here.”
We stare at each other, and something in his gaze transfers to mine, encapsulating my soul. I look away, feeling the edges of my vision blur with oncoming tears. I thought I would be able to handle this, but I can’t. Just one look from him, and I’m falling apart. I turn away from him and slam my eyes shut, trying to pull it together.
It doesn’t work.
With a mind of their own, my feet move away from him of their own accord. It’s like my own mind and body know following through with this plan is idiotic. Facing him right now is too soon.
“Hey,” he says, catching my arm and turning me toward him. He pauses when he sees the tears on my face. His lips press together in a thin line, and his eyes soften around the edges. Where he was just hard and unrelenting, no more than a few minutes ago, he now seems to soften just the slightest bit, and that realization has guilt slamming into me.
He still obviously feels something. I know he does. Or maybe it’s just my wishful thinking. Why do I want to fall into his arms, and why do I want him to be the one to put me back together? I shouldn’t be here. The emotions warring inside me are obviously telling me this is a mistake.
I shake my head, shaking off his hold on me. “I can’t do this.”
Turning away from him, I try to walk away, but he doesn’t let me go. “Can’t do what?”
“This!” I point between us aggravatedly. “I thought I could come here, and…I thought I could handle this. I thought I could try. But I can’t, Baz. I can’t handle it anymore.”
I press my hands onto the side of my head, trying to make the pain stop, willing the pounding to go away. “Fucking Christ,” he hisses angrily, and in my mental breakdown, I think his anger is directed at me, but when I hear his next words, I look up, realizing it’s not. “Put the fucking phone away. Have some goddamn respect.”
Gripping my arm again, Baz uses his broad back to shield me and lead me inside, while a few bystanders stand around on the street with their phones out filming my breakdown like it’s something to be spectated and replayed. Just one more thing I need in my life.
Baz ushers me into the living room. I collapse onto the couch and drop my head into my hands. I wish he wouldn’t act like this. It makes it hard to be angry with him. Why is he always looking out for me, yet hurting me in equal measure?
I hear him settle in the seat across from me. I can feel his gaze on me, and I give myself just a few more seconds to pull it together. Finally, I pick my head up and wipe my face clean of any remaining tears. I fix my gaze on the pristine marble floors, unable to look at him yet.
“What are you doing here, Mackenzie?”
“I-I…” My throat closes, and I trail off. I should say it. Tell him I came here to see him. Because I, honest to God, wasn’t sure I had it in me to stay away from him. All the truth.
I’m afraid of doing that. Of laying myself bare for him to hurt me even more than he already has. Vera’s question floats around in the back of my mind.
“Can you do this again without falling in love with him?”
I thought I could. I thought I could hide my feelings for him, but now that I’m here, face to face, I don’t know if I can.
“For someone who hates me and never shared anything real with me, you’re not acting like it.”
Like someone took a match to a flame, the fire in me ignites. My gaze shoots his and narrows. “I came here to talk, but obviously, seeing you, even looking at your face, is hard right now,” I grit through clenched teeth.
“Then talk.” Gone is the protector from outside. Now that he’s sitting across from me, his demeanor has changed. It feels like a cold draft weaves through the room, but it’s just the coldness. He’s likely remembering how our last visit went. Visions of my hand sailing through the air and colliding with his cheek hit me full force.
“Had an interesting conversation with my parents yesterday.” His face gives nothing away. The bastard doesn’t even blink. Just watches me, waiting for me to continue. His outward appearance is so indestructible. “Ring any bells?”
“And why would it?” he challenges. As calmly as I can with fire boiling in my gut, I set my palms on my thighs and lean forward ever so slightly, narrowing my gaze.
“Don’t play me for a fool, Sebastian. You know what I’m talking about. And I want to know why. Why go see my parents? Why take the conservatorship from them and sign me over to yourself? What are you up to?”
“Smart girl,” he muses, upper lip quirking with amusement.
“Why are you doing this?”
“You really think it’s better off in their hands? That what you’re telling me?”
I scowl because that’s not what I’m saying. I mean, hell, they didn’t visit me in that shithole. They just threw me away like I meant nothing to them. Part of me knows he’s better off with it, and that’s a scary thought to have. How can I possibly trust Baz, after everything he’s done, over my own parents? That isn’t even my main issue. My main issue is that he went out of his way to take it from them.
Why? We haven’t even had a conversation by this point. He obviously has some ulterior motive.
“No, but that doesn’t mean I want you to have it. Give it to anyone else but you.”
“And why not? Don’t think I have your best interests at heart?”
“Do you?” I challenge. “Because, somehow, I don’t believe you do. I do not trust you. Every move you make is calculated, and I want to know why you did this.”
He shrugs noncommittally. Suddenly too smooth and calm for my liking. “Figured it was safer this way. You can thank me later.”
“Give it back.”
He tsks. “Can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Tell me what you came here for first,” he counters.
“This is what I came here for!” I snap, my tone exaggerated. Baz quirks a brow, calling my bluff. He scoffs. The deep sound of it rumbles through my body.
“Guess all the lies haven’t changed.”
His words are a blow to the chest. I try not to flinch at how much they bother me. I hate that he’ll always view me as a liar. I wish I could sit here and bare myself to him and tell him everything.
“Fine, you want to know what I’m here for? Because I need your help.”
His brows shoot up in surprise. “With what?”
“I’m sure I have you to blame for the way the media is ripping me to shreds.” I glare at him. “I need it to stop. At this rate, I’ll never be able to find a job anywhere. My name is tainted. And I just…I need it to go away. Those people online are cruel.”
The truth is, I don’t need his help with any of that. And while it bothers me that people are saying these things about me online, I can ignore it. I can hide out for a little while until it all dies down. Though, finding work? That’s a different story in itself.
Baz watches me closely, much too closely, and I fear he can see through the white lie. I fear he already knows why I’m really here, and he’ll figure out this is just a weak attempt at an excuse. I can’t let that happen. This is my last chance to work my way back into his life.
I should’ve gone with the original plan I discussed with Vera, but with my battered heart already involved, it was much too risky.
After a beat, he swipes at that plump bottom lip, regarding me with a cold aloofness that makes me want to shrivel up and die. “So that’s what you’re here for?” he grunts, shaking his head as though he should know better. “Of course, that’s what you’re here for. You want me to clean up your mess, too. Make it all better?” His taunting tone irks me.
Baz leans back in his chair, watching me with a cold, calculating gleam in his eyes. I hate it. I feel like he can see right through me. See through every ill intention I had when coming here. I press my lips together, refusing to look away or back down.
He smirks, and for once, it catches me off guard by how cruel it is. Leaning forward, he asks the words so softly, with a husky undertone that zaps me straight in the core. “You want to use me, baby?”
I swallow, crossing my legs to get rid of the sudden ache I feel down there. I search for that anger, holding on to it. “Don’t call me that,” I snap. Leaning forward, I lower my tone threateningly. “You owe me.”
Baz purses his lips. “Fair enough. But what do I get in return?”
A bark of laughter explodes from my chest. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe my knife not sticking out of your jugular?”
He chuckles. Amusement lighting his eyes. The bastard is enjoying this. “A knife? My, my, you really have changed, haven’t you?”
I square my shoulders. “I have.”
He leans forward more, and with the small movement, his smell wafts into my personal space, and I hate the way it lights up my body. It’s all man. And all Baz. “Well, I have, too, Dirty Girl. You sure you want to do this?”
“Do we have a deal, Sebastian? Just tell me what you want in return,” I grit through my teeth. If he asks me one more time if I’m ready, I’ll end up walking out because no, I’m not. But I’ll never let him know that.
He smirks. “I want you, of course.”
My heart jumps into my throat, and I grimace. “Fine.”
“Ready to work for it, Dirty Girl? Because this isn’t going to be easy work.” Once again, there is no heat in his gaze, just ice. And it burns a different way. One that is more painful. It’s meant to hurt, I realize. He wants to hurt me the same way I do him.
“Fuck you. Do we have a deal or not?” I ask, inserting steel into my voice.
He leans back. “We do.”
I gather my purse and set out to leave but let out a gasp of surprise when Baz whirls me around and leads me to the wall. He moved so fast I didn’t even hear him get up from his chair. The heat of his body pushes me into the wall, and I feel it seeping through my clothes. His smell infiltrates my senses. It makes it hard to think, to breathe, when he’s this close.
My heart is pounding violently. The deafening sound roars in my ears. He’s so close that I can feel each warm breath blow across the top of my head. My nipples pebble against the restraining material of my bra. It would be so easy to lean forward and fuse our mouths together. It would be so easy to get lost in this man like I have so many times before. Like two magnets, a positive and a negative, snapping together. That tether that’s always there between us vibrates, and I feel myself leaning into him. I should be resisting his hold, pretending I hate this. His hand suddenly snakes around the nape of my neck, and his touch warms me from head to toe. He steps into me; his hard planes flush against my curves.
My lips part on instinct when he leans in, his face hovering mere inches away from mine. We share each other’s air, breathing the want and desire that’s suddenly suffocating the room. His thumb trails its way from my wrist up my arm, around the curve of my shoulder, skimming the side of my neck and pausing on my chin. With the pad of his thumb, he drags it across my lower lip, toying with me.
A flush crawls over my skin, and I almost want to beg him to do it already. To kiss me. To take the pain away. Even if I can get lost in his kiss for mere minutes, I’ll take it.
“So eager,” he breathes against my lips. I can’t hold in my mewl when his tongue juts out, tracing the seam of my lips. My core throbs, damn-near begging for more.
He pulls back, watching me, and I want to cry out in distress at the unfairness of it all. But suddenly, he dives in, kissing me, taking my lips rough and hard. I moan into his mouth, falling into him completely. With his hand clasped around the nape of my neck, he pulls me into him, guiding the kiss, working my mouth this way and that, moving me to his heart’s desire.
When he pulls away, he rests a hand above my head, caging me in, as he stares down at me. I’m working overtime to slow my breathing, but I’m sure he sees it. Hell, he can probably hear the panting. He knows how much I want him. His hand slides away from my neck at the same time the heat of his body leaves mine, and he backs away.
“You’ll be hearing from me.” He jerks his chin toward the door, and my stomach sours. Giving up my body for my rights back seemed like a good idea at the time. Not so much anymore. Especially not after that kiss.
Maybe I should’ve just gone with the truth, because this? What we’re doing? It’s just as dangerous, if not more dangerous, than giving my heart to him on a silver platter.
My lungs burn, and an odd sensation fills my chest as I watch her go. I have a raging fire in my blood that feels like it can burn the sun. That’s the effect Mackenzie has on me. I could clearly see through her act today, but did that stop me from wagering with her? Absolutely not. Because I am addicted. It means I can finally have her in the palm of my hand. It means I get to keep her close when all she wants to do is run far away from me.
Some small part of me is disappointed that that is all she came here for, for me to fix her problems. And nothing more. Or at the very least, that’s what she wants me to believe. But that kiss and the way her body still responds to mine? That tells me everything I need to know—everything those plump lips would never have the courage to say.
She still wants me.
Some part of her still wants me, and I’d dig, sift through her fears and anger, until I uncovered that piece of her.
I am up for the challenge. The challenge of peeling her back, layer by layer, until she is bare to me. I plan on breaking her down, because that is the only viable option. She’s damn stubborn, and she wants to use me. So, I’ll let her. She can use me all she wants.
Digging into my slack pockets, I pull out my phone to call Mia. She picks up on the second ring, her jubilant voice erupting down the line.
“Good afternoon, Mr. King. What can I help you with?”
“I need you to release a statement for me. Also, I need you to continue getting those articles buried.”
“I can do that. What’s the statement for? And the articles concerning Ms. Wright? We have most of the sources covered, but the accounts and the hashtags, I’m not sure we can do much about that.”
“I’ll handle that. The statement is about my relationship with Ms. Wright. I want the world to know she’s mine. I can handle the rest, but for now, this will disrupt the wind in the angry mob’s sails where she’s concerned. Contact Julia, our publicist, and have her draft something up.”
She’s silent on the other end of the line. It’s long enough that I’m able to picture her crestfallen face. That is the thing about hiring women for the assistant’s position. No matter how rude, curt, or unpleasant I am, they always want more. Mia is no different. She is damn good at her job, but she also looks at me like I am a god. I’m not. I am a man who is repenting for his sins. Doing his damnedest to make things right.
She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t see the real me. She sees what everyone else does. A good exterior, a large bank account, and a good time for the night. I’m not interested in anyone, but the same woman who’s been driving me crazy since she stepped into my restaurant, barged her way into my life, all those months ago. I can only hope this won’t become a problem. Especially now that Mackenzie will be back in the picture.
On second thought, this could be fun. Mackenzie obviously feels threatened by Mia, so keeping Mia around could be beneficial for this little agreement we have going. I told Mackenzie it wasn’t going to be easy, and I meant that. Even though she has a hold on me, I am still spiteful, and there is still a small part of me that wants to hurt her.
“Is there a problem, Mia?” I ask, impatience coloring my tone.
“No. No, of course not.” She snaps out of it, clearing her throat. “I will get right on that for you, Mr. Kingston. When should I expect you back?”
“Soon. There are still a few things I need to handle.”
After hanging up with Mia, I dial Marcus and set up a meet with him. He’s still here in New York, and if this is going to work, he needs to be privy to everything that is happening. He may not trust Mackenzie, and he won’t like this, but he doesn’t have any other option.
If we really are going to uncover the truth of Vincent’s lies, this is the only viable option. I need to keep Mackenzie close. This is the only way I know how to protect her.
Trent knows more than he is letting on, and Zach is playing dumb. I fear the worst. Could they have played me all those years ago? And if they did, what really happened? Maybe Mackenzie wasn’t far off. Maybe it really was supposed to be her that night.
I slide out of the car and button up my coat, as I climb up the steps to the high-end building on the Upper East Side. It screams money. Something that I’m sure Katherine Van Der Pont has in spades.
After speaking with Marcus earlier, we are in an agreement of sorts. He doesn’t trust Mackenzie, and he thinks I am making a huge mistake. I don’t trust anyone, and normally I never put myself in a position to be burned by anyone; yet, I don’t care. I am still doing this.
I enter the lobby of the prestigious building, and the doorman tips his hat, obviously knowing who I am without having to ask. I stop at the desk and let the older man know I’m here to see Mackenzie Wright who is staying with Katherine. It doesn’t take long for her to come down, a scowl on her face at my unannounced presence. She actively tries to mask the surprise with a grimace, but it doesn’t work. I can see through her. Even if she doesn’t want me to.
“What are you doing here?” She tightens her cardigan around her, glancing around the lobby to make sure no one else is looking.
“We’re going on a date. Grab your shit.”
Her brows jump into her hairline. Incredulity is written all over her gorgeous face. “Like hell we are.”
